|Original Picture taken from StockSnap|
Two more nights to go.
Two more nights and I will be 25 years old.
For most people their birthday is a day to celebrate and have fun. After all, everyone who cares about you will call or come over to have a jolly good time. There will be presents, joy and (most importantly) cake. So, how could anyone possibly dread such a wonderful day?
Well, for me, my birthday is nothing more but a cruel reminder.
Another year has gone by. During that year, chances were missed, memories forgotten or not even made. Being the nostalgic person that I am, I tend to long for days gone by. I want to relive cherished experiences, feel what I felt at that point in my life. But I know that it is impossible and that I should not live in the past. I know that I'm supposed to focus on my future.
My birthday reminds me of the fact that everything I have experienced and loved so far is now nothing more than a remnant that will fade away as time goes on. And it reminds me of all the things that I didn't do: all the hours I have spent paralyzed on the couch, doing nothing out of fear and sheer laziness.
25 is not old. There is still so much time and so many great things to do in this world.
But it feels like I have already missed out on so many of them. Things I won't be able to do in a way you are only capable of when you are in your early twenties, with all those possibilities laid out before your bare feet.
You are free, spontaneous - you can do whatever the hell you want, because you are young and foolish. You make that unplanned road trip with your friends, because it's summer. You decide to study abroad, because you want a change of scene.
I've never had that change of scene. I've never made real plans for the future. There was no ambition to do something with my life. Now, only 2 days before my birthday, all that is left are regrets. Regrets and too many walks down memory lane, which can be a dangerous place to hang around for too long.
I don't want people to call me on the phone to congratulate me on yet another wasted year.
I don't want people to write on my Facebook page even though I haven't seen them for ages and they probably don't even care.
Just give me that God damn cake, so I can curl up and choke on it.
They say that it is never too late for a fresh start, that you should do what your gut feeling tells you. Eventually, you will end up where you are supposed to be.
But what if your gut feeling decides to shut down to see what you are going to do with your life just for the heck of it?
Picking yourself up is hard, especially with the ticking of the clock in the back of your head, pressuring you to do something valuable with your time.
So, just let me sleep away the day.
Let's forget about the fact that I am not 21 anymore.
Let's pretend that I am not wasting my life.
I have no idea where this text is going, but so is my life: a collection of different pieces that do not form one coherent picture, but a rather poorly crafted collage. I'm just hanging around doing stuff, but not what I'm actually supposed to do. But I guess, this is what birthdays are about, too. They're not just cakes and presents, but also reflection and sometimes even melancholy.
I'm already looking forward to the day when I will be comfortable with ageing, when I'm over this stage of my life and can finally say: "Good Lord, I'm so glad I'm not 25 anymore. Being in your twenties sucks balls."